


Terrible People Tea Party

by WolffyLuna



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst and Humor, Dialogue Heavy, Gen, Humor, re-embodiement shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 06:20:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13541529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna
Summary: Maedhros sat down. “Now, I imagine you’re going to ask what each other are doing here.”Maeglin raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Maedhros, before turning to Celebrimbor. “Welcome to the inaugural meeting of the Terrible People Tea Party.”A Maia suggests Maeglin go talk to Maedhros, and he goes semi willingly. Celebrimbor would just like to have an argument without a less-related audience. Maedhros wants these people out of his house.





	Terrible People Tea Party

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melodyxchii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodyxchii/gifts).



> Many moons ago, melodychii (melodyxchii on ao3) on tumblr won a giveaway for a mini fic, and she asked for re-embodiement or Hall of Mandos shenanigans with Maeglin, Maedhros and Celebrimbor. Several months later and several thousand more words than I intended, here is the fic. Thank you for your patience, melody!
> 
> I hope everyone who reads this, both melody and non-melody people, enjoys it. Thank you for reading!

Many of Mandos’ Maia veiled themselves in massive robed figures. This one, however, had decided on a veil of slithering skeleton and carcass, sewn together in a gargantuan and eldritch 

amalgamation. They were not a comforting sight after leaving the Halls. Maeglin was leaving to get _away_ from the death. (And because he was ‘ready’. He questioned that proclamation.) He didn’t _want_ to be confronted by a spirit of the afterlife. Nor did he want to be reminded of the fragility of life, and the fact he recently wasn't alive. 

“We have a suggestion,” said the Maia. The voice seemed to be emanating from a deer skull embedded in their probably-a-shoulder, but Maeglin could have been imagining it. 

_Ah, yes, ‘suggestions’. ‘Non mandatory’ ‘suggestions.’_ “Ah huh.”

It cringed back, flustered. “Oh, no, no! Not an order!” 

Maeglin raised an incredulous eyebrow. The maia tendency to blithely read minds was... no. No. “Go on,” he said in a monotone. 

“There is someone we think you should meet.” It paused, and cocked the mess of baleen where it’s head should have been. “You have met. Someone you should meet again.” 

“Someone who would tolerate me.” He wasn’t thrilled about being dumped in an unfamiliar land filled with people who didn’t like him, but he’d concede it was maybe better than being dead. Maybe. But the amount of people who would rightly dislike him took some of the shine off being alive. 

As did maia trying to set up friendships. 

“Many will tolerate you,” they said, “You have been through the Halls. But We think you should meet Maedhros. You would have much to talk about.” 

Maedhros. Really. Maedhros ‘Mass Murder’ Feanorion. _Really._ “Oh, the Terrible People Tea Club! I was just _aching_ to join it.” Maeglin started marching away. Mostly because he was done with half rotting Maia setting up play dates. 

But also because seeing Maedhros wasn’t a completely terrible idea, considering. He couldn’t exactly _judge_ , could he? Maeglin hadn’t done the exact maths of ‘who’s killed the most innocent people?’ but that fact that maths could be done--

 

“That’s not why we suggested it!” The Maia shouted behind him, as flustered as a guardian of the doors of death could be. “It was the torture! That was why! It was the torture!” 

Maeglin ignored them. 

***

Celebrimbor felt odd yelling at his own reflection. It felt unnatural. Practicing an argument in a mirror was a tried and tested technique, taught to him by Maedhros himself, but that didn’t change how it felt. Partially because it would be using a technique taught to him by the person he was going to use it against. But it also didn’t feel natural to berate himself. (Not after Mandos, not after the circling guilt, and the slow breaking of it.) And it didn’t seem natural to practice at a snarling face, knowing Maedhros would be sitting there as calm as he would be if they were talking about the weather, a calmness that was almost a calculated insult. 

He took a deep breath, and spoke as evenly as could, at least so he could practice speaking to a calm face. “I know you _felt_ obligated--” that wasn’t right, he’d heard the oath, knew it wasn’t as simple as that “-- _were_ obligated--” no, that was worse, he’d always had a choice, it never had to get that bad “but how did you end up _worse_ than my father?” 

He couldn’t say the next part calmly. Couldn’t say it straight away. He ran his hands through his hair, gripped the sink, repeated that cycle until he could say it without sounding like a squeaking clarinet. He’d say that was because he was still getting used to his vocal chords, still getting used to speaking. But that would be a lie. It was the content that made it difficult, not a new and unworn in larynx.

“How did you leave before him?” 

***

Celebrimbor didn’t remember the family’s old grounds at Tirion well enough to not get lost, but he remembered enough to look like he was meant to be there and knew where he was going. He nodded at a few of the old hands he recognised as he walked along. 

He found Maedhros not by memory, but by luck. His voice carried through a closed door, calm and precise and with very pronounced ‘th’s.

Celebrimbor paused in gront of the door. He did not want a non-Maedhros audience to his rant (“ _How dare you, how did it get this bad, surely there were other ways, why are_ you _here and not my father”)._ No reason to burden anyone else with family business. But if he turned around now-- he may not get the courage to come back. 

He’d come in. Say hello. Wait till the other person left. Then tell Maedhros how he felt. That seemed reasonable. He knocked on the door. 

“Come in,” Maedhros called out. 

Celebrimbor opened the door. 

He wasn’t surprised to _see_ Maedhros, again, he’d heard his voice, but he was surprised at how Maedhros appeared. It took Celebrimbor a second to realise of course he would be unscarred, of course he would look like the young heir of Noldor. He had come through Mandos-- But it was still startling to see him with an unbroken nose, unscarred lips, and two hands. 

The more startling thing was who was sitting on the other side of the table. 

Holding a cup of tea, looking halfway between blank and bemused, was Maeglin. Celebrimbor had met him in Gondolin, and he made an impression as an anti social recluse. As in, not the sort of person to be having tea with anyone, let alone Maedhros. He’d made his disdain for company quite clear. 

He also looked startlingly healthy. In Gondolin, he hadn’t seemed ill, so much as-- He seemed like a plant grown in poor soil. The leaves grew with a pretty speckled pattern, but the aesthetic was marred when you realised it was only because the leaves were so starved they could not grow green. Maeglin’s leaves now looked young and fragile, but full green.

Maedhros stood up. “Celebrimbor, I had heard word of your return. It is good to see you again.” Maedhros clasped their hands, and steered him to a chair. “Come, sit, take a cup.” 

Celebrimbor slumped into a chair, feeling off balance and like he hadn’t re-learned his limbs. It took him a minute to realise the feeling of ill balance was intentional on Maedhros’ part. That was why he lead him so. 

Maedhros sat down. “Now, I imagine you’re going to ask what each other are doing here.” 

Maeglin took a swig from his cup, seeming very determined not to answer, or at least to delay it.

“I’m here to discuss family matters,” said Celebrimbor. “But I can wait and socialise.” 

Maedhros nodded carefully. 

Maeglin put his cup down. “I was told to come here.” 

“ _Suggested_ ,” Maedhros corrected. 

Maeglin raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Maedhros, before turning to Celebrimbor. “Welcome to the inaugural meeting of the Terrible People Tea Party.” 

“It’s very fortuitous of you to come here, Celebrimbor,” said Maedhros. “Not that you’re a terrible person, of course, but more is always merrier, and I imagine you and Maeglin have a lot to talk about.” 

Maeglin seemed torn between stabbing Maedhros with his eyes or with his teaspoon.

“You were in the same city, were you not? Of course, I could be getting you confused with one of my other nephews.” 

Celebrimbor pinched the bridge of his nose. _Keeping track of family members trying to avoid their family, and ‘casually’ bringing up the fact you did that: definitely not creepy, Maedhros. Definitely no resemblance to the last letters you sent me. You know, the mad sounding ones._ “You don’t have to talk about it,” he said to Maeglin. He hoped Maeglin would catch the bone he threw and run off with it. Hearing someone talk about ‘yes, I destroyed this city, but I _had_ to!’ was not something Celebrimbor was interested in hearing. Much less right now. It would be for the best if this didn’t dissolve into a teaspoon stabbing standoff. 

***

Maedhros had disliked the unsteadiness that came with re-embodiment. The distraction that came from inhabiting a body after so long of being free of it. The slowness that it forced. It had been exasperating spending the first season of his new life like that. But now, that lack of balance was a great gift. 

Especially considering it was happening to other people now. People who may have otherwise spotted clumsy attempts to shoo them out of his house, especially attempts that were... more playful than necessary. Like a cat playing with a stunned mouse. 

(There was nothing wrong with the complex pleasures in life., Maedhros thought. And while it was common wisdom that people returned as better people after the Halls, Maedhros didn’t entirely believe that. At least manipulating people out of his house was better than murder.) 

Maeglin would have been easy to get to leave. He was there because of an obligation; he’d said as much himself. All Maedhros needed to was make some sympathetic noises about yes, it was hard living with people you’ve hurt, you get better at it, they get better at it, et cetera, and then gently steer him to the door. It would have been easy! And not morally grey! 

And then Celebrimbor showed up. 

Maeglin was now obligated to be social for even longer. But that was relatively minor on the scale of annoyances. 

There were only so many reasons Celebrimbor would want to see a member of the family he disowned. None of them involved conversations Maedhros wanted to have. People, in their previous lives, had confused Celebrimbor leaving with some fundamental difference between him and the rest of Feanor’s line. This was false. Celebrimbor had the traits. That had been why he left. He had the creativity and the art, but also the stubbornness and firmness of his convictions. And of course, the Finwion tendency to pick fights he really shouldn’t pick. (Stopping him from picking fights with his only currently living family member was for his own good. Really. Maedhros had no horse in this race. Definitely.)

“Of course, I could be getting you confused with one of my other nephews.” 

Celebrimbor tried to squeeze his nose off, and made the constipated expression of someone who wanted to punch someone, but only if there were no witnesses, which unfortunately, there were. “You don’t have to talk about it,” Celebrimbor grumbled in the direction of Maeglin. 

“Whyever not? This is the Terrible People Tea Party; what else is there to talk about?” Maedhros said. 

Celebrimbor had obviously learned to copy Maeglin’s glare in Gondolin. He and Maeglin were mirroring each other most amusingly. 

“And it’s not like you would be left out,” Maedhros continued. “You had allied yourself with Gorthaur last I heard.” 

‘Offended’ was far too mild a word for Celebrimbor’s expression. Far, far too mild. _‘You’re lucky I don’t have a sword on me, because I would have drawn, and I would have got myself exiled, and because you’re my only family you would have come with me, and that would have ended badly,’_ was the best verbal approximation of it. Celebrimbor breathed in deeply (very, very deliberately) and un-tensed his hands from where they strangled the arms of his chair (very, very deliberately). “It was not -- _intentional_.” 

“Well, join the club anyway,” Maeglin said. 

Celebrimbor whirled to face Maeglin. _“I never destroyed a--_!” he hissed, before cutting himself off, as he realised the end of that sentence was very much not true. Celebrimbor put his hands in his lap, lest anymore indignities happen to the chair. 

Most of Maeglin’s expressions were some mixture ‘unimpressed.’ Right now he was a combination of ‘unimpressed’ and ‘amused’. “Well, your method was certainly more stylish than mine.” 

Maedhros poured himself another cup of tea. This was an unexpected, but not unpleasant development. They were fighting each other, and with very little provocation from him. With any luck, they might take themselves out of his house without any outside intervention. Even if they didn’t, it would be amusing to watch. Maedhros leaned back in his chair. It simply wouldn’t do to watch an argument without a full cup of tea and a comfy chair. 

“It was a whole _lot less deliberate_ ,” Celebrimbor hissed.

“Well, we’re not the worst here, at least,” Maeglin said. He looked at Maedhros. “You did two, three?”

Tea fell out of Maedhros’ mouth, slopping back into the cup. “Two what?” Though he knew the answer.

“Cities. Cities you destroyed.” Maeglin said. 

Celebrimbor looked at Maeglin... not quite conspiratorially, but with an offer of an alliance. “It’s a problem if you can’t remember how many cities you sacked. Implies that there have been too many.” 

Maedhros carefully put the tea cup back on the saucer, trying to regain the image of his composure. “Two.” Maedhros considered shutting up at that point, but with two people against him? He was going to give as good as he got. “But I wasn’t working for Morgoth at the time.” 

Celebrimbor muttered “Not directly.” 

Maeglin spoke over him, oblivious to Celebrimbor talking. “Is _that_ how we are counting it. ‘Alliance’ with Morgoth?” His voice was no longer lazy disappointment, but something cold and hard. Something that could topple and bury Maedhros under it. 

Celebrimbor came to Maeglin’s aid. “How does fighting against Morgoth’s servants count then? Does it cancel out?” 

“How does _not being willing_ count?” 

“Not for much, I’ve found.” _Speak softly, keep your face blank. Sound choked off. Play the kindly uncle, play the person who’s been through this before, play someone sympathetic, someone commiserating over unfortunate truths, the person who wasn’t willing either, pulled by oaths beyond their control._

Maeglin was stubbornly not taking the bait, just staring at Maedhros, and gripping the table hard enough that his arms were shaking. 

Celebrimbor seemed torn between comfortingly patting him, and backing out of the room slowly. 

“It’s unfortunate, is it not?” said Maedhros, is that same soft, slow, sympathetic voice. 

“ _Maybe_ ,” said Maeglin. 

***

“But you swore the Oath willingly,” Celebrimbor said. 

Maedhros looked somewhat startled.

“What did you expect, that the elda clause wouldn’t come up?” Celebrimbor knew the answer was yes, he’d been there. He remembered how the concept of Eldar fighting Eldar, Elf killing Elf, was foreign. 

“I did not predict all the outcomes,” Maedhros said evenly. 

“Oh no, I don’t have perfect foresight. I have to make decisions like normal people!” Maeglin said in a mocking sing song voice. He seemed -- happier, to Celebrimbor’s eye. Less likely to use the table as a weapon/

Celebrimbor sighed. “You know, I was planning to hold off having this fight till later.” He glanced over at Maeglin. “It’s not polite to drag other people into family conflict.” 

“Drag me in all you like, I am family,” Maeglin said.

Celebrimbor turned to Maedhros, and did his best impression of ‘steely’ “But we’re already fighting. No need to wait. So: How did you get out?” 

“A foolhardy cousin, and a giant eagle, as I recall?” Maedhros said, feigning confusion. (He could fake many things, but actual confusion was so foreign to him his acting was obvious.) 

Celebrimbor raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Out of the Halls. How did you get out the Halls first. You died last. You killed the most. How are you here.” Celebrimbor didn’t add the rising inflection at the end of that sentence, turning the question into a weary statement. 

“You know I really shouldn’t say.” 

“We’ve all been to the Halls,” Maeglin shrugged. “No need to keep it particularly secret.”

“Well, what do we all have in common?” Maedhros asked.

Celebrimbor drew a blank.

“Being dead? Being stubborn fools?” Maeglin suggested. 

Maedhros sipped his tea. “Guilt.”

That killed the conversation. (No, it asked the conversation for all it’s magical artifacts, and then killed it when that didn’t work.) 

Celebrimbor looked down, not making eye contact, and fiddled with his fingers, bending them back and forward with his other hand. 

Celebrimbor could only see Maeglin out of the corner of his eye, but his expression didn’t seem to have changed. He’d gone quiet, certainly, he wasn’t throwing out snark like he had to use it before it started growing mold. But the expression was the same. Celebrimbor couldn’t tell if it was because Maeglin was less affected by Maedhros’ statement, or if he was guilty all the time, or if the idea was not an unpleasant revelation. 

Maedhros looked like he’d put a weight on his shoulders. As well as everyone else’s, of course. 

“That’s it?” Celebrimbor said, softly. It was too simple. He knew that. He’d been to the Halls. 

“I can’t be sure, but--” 

Celebrimbor looked up at Maedhros. Made eye contact. “You’re here because even though you did terrible things, you lacked the courage of your convictions?”

“ _You don’t like those convictions,_ ” Maedhros said. 

Celebrimbor shrugged. “True.” He didn’t break eye contact. It felt less unnatural than the yelling, this quiet poking off holes in Maedhros’ argument.

Maedhros sighed. “This is about your father, isn’t it?” 

Celebrimbor shrugged. It was true, but he didn’t feel the need to tell Maedhros that. He could work it out himself. 

“I wish I could say something helpful. He’s not out yet, because he is not out yet. And that’s a useless answer, I know,” Maedhros said. 

“It is,” said Celebrimbor. “Quite useless.” 

Maeglin stood up and skulled his tea. “Well, I certainly _enjoyed_ the inaugural meeting of the Terrible People Tea Club, but if we’re going to talk about fathers... I’m gonna leave it for an audience where we all know who we’re talking about.” He walked out, muttering about Maia. 

“Happy now? Got it all off your chest?” Maedhros asked. Celebrimbor couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or genuine.

“Oh, I intend to stay here for longer and make things incredibly awkward. Especially now we don’t have company.” Celebrimbor took a swig of his tea. “We’re each other’s only family, it would be unfair to deprive each other of that.” 

Maedhros raised an eyebrow. 

Celebrimbor smiled thinly, barbedly. Maedhros gave another barbed smile back, in memory of who Celebrimbor had learned it from. 


End file.
